On Strike

It’s that time of year again…when the sun starts going down a little earlier, and kids are headed back to school with fresh notebooks and new backpacks. No doubt, there will be a first day writing exercise where they are given 10 minutes to write about, “what I did on my summer vacation.” I remember that assignment…particularly, looking longingly out the window at the remaining days of summer and wishing it wasn’t quite over yet. And now, years later, I look around at the rest of the “grown-ups” in the room, and we are all still looking longingly out the window, missing those days of summer vacation.

So… in the French spirit of August and all things summer, today I strike.

I am not setting my alarm clock. I will leisurely sip my latte (from a bowl, of course) and splurge with a slice of croissant bread pudding at my dear boulange. I will complete the crossword puzzle. And once the fog burns off, if the fog burns off, I will do what people on vacation do in San Francisco. Okay, so I’m not going to Pier 39 or Alcatraz, but I will have a picnic in the park (I have a baguette in my bag already) or taste my way through the Ferry Building. And if the fog lingers….I’ll take a nap.

One thing I did learn this summer, while traveling, is that when you learn to count on a morning ritual, it is a rarity to find something that compares to what we have at home. And although, on the road there are exceptional treats and new and different things to taste, the folks behind the counter don’t know my name, or that I prefer my latte extra hot. So while it is easy to long for a getaway, it is so nice to get back home and into a routine. This is not to say that sometimes, while looking out the window, we won’t begin to miss the days of summer.

Like I said, today I’m on strike.